


Lost In Translation

by TheBuggu



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cultural Differences, Eventual Blitzwing/Bumblebee, Eventual Drift-Deadlock/Ratchet, Grounders and Fliers, Language Barrier, M/M, Slow Build Megatron/Optimus Prime, Slow Romance, Will add tags as story updates!, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBuggu/pseuds/TheBuggu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an era where the war never happened, there are two distinct kinds of Cybertronians: Fliers who inhabit the skies and Grounders who live deep under Cybertron's surface. The only problem is that neither kind knows of the other's existence. Grounders have never explored above; while Fliers have never stepped foot underground.</p><p>That is...until a Flier and Grounder have a chance meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh gosh. I decided to go ahead and just throw this bad boy up.

Optimus dug his fingers into the cavern wall and looked up. High, high above he could see light filtering down. He took several cautious glances over his shoulder and eyed the path behind him to be sure he wasn't followed. Throughout the years, the Magnus said time and time again that they did not go above; there was nothing for them above ground. Even though the strange, beautiful light looked so alluring...he shouldn't even be thinking of it.

They had lights in the underground and like everything else, energon and protoforms, it came from the planet. There was lights running throughout the tunnels in the form of small orbs, which made it easy to explore. But throughout the clan, no one shared his enthusiasm for what could be there above them in the strange light. How could they know if they didn't dare to leave?

He made a loud sigh and dragged a servo down his face. He...could do this. It wouldn't be so bad, just a quick look around and he'd come right back. There wasn't anything wrong with that; the Magnus would never know and it would be his little secret. Optimus swallowed and pressed flush to the wall. He grunted and began to climb up, taking it slow and easy with one step at a time.

If anything happened, he was prepared. He had a full day's ration of energon with him and his axe on his back--he had been trained in one of the Magnus' classes, so he knew how to defend himself. He just wanted more than to be a miner spending hours and hours digging for fuel or a scavenger that would patrol and defend the miners from the beasts lurking in the tunnel.

There was the chance to be a medic like Ratchet, but most were too young and self-centered to dedicate their entire lives to one purpose. That being said, the medics were really a gift to their tribe. They knew how to read the energon lines and judge when the planet would shift and how to combine crystals into energon to give it better healing qualities.

It wasn't an easy process, but Optimus managed to cover about half of the height before he lifted his arm and aimed his new grapple up. They had been given to him as a gift by the Magnus. He only gave his more gifted students such precious and valuable tools, so they definitely brought a surge of pride. He fired the three-pronged tip up and waited for it to hit against rock. It snagged with a distant _CLANG_ high above.

Optimus yanked on the rope several times, testing the tension to be sure it could sustain his weight before he went any further. He heard the faint whine of the metal coil, but it never released its grip. The Magnus _did_  say that the tip had been crafted from the strongest material found in their tunnels. It activated and pulled him with surprising speed.

He dared a peek back to the ground and swallowed anxiously after realizing just how high he was now. No wonder no one tried to visit the strange light before; it was so...high. Optimus didn't like the height, it scared him in all honesty, but he wasn't going to back down. His fingers were shaking, his knees buckling, and his entire frame quivering.

The distance between him and the cracks of light grew shorter. He could feel a breath of anticipation and excitement hanging, unable to leave his mouth. The grapple had snagged on an overhanging arch, stopping just before the open crack. He dug his fingertips into the wall and scrambled up, clawing for the edge. He pulled himself up and climbed forward. Optimus hesitantly pushed his helm through the opening and eyed the distant surroundings.

It was...bright. So bright and vibrant. The metal landscape was full of colorful hues.

He hoisted himself up, mouth gaping in disbelief at the beauty, and scooted away from the edge. He gazed down at the earth scattered around and grabbed a handful. It slipped through his fingers, flowing like energon itself, and felt soft unlike the solid earthen bits down in the tunnels.

"Incredible," he whispered. "If the Magnus could see this...He would have to change his mind."

The awe filling Optimus died just as quickly when he heard a audio-piercing shriek behind him. He whipped around and pulled his axe from the holster on his back. Strange...beasts came from the soft ground. They were black with red strips on their bodies, with multiple pincer limbs on their sides.

"What...what are you?" he hissed, axe raised and ready for a fight. He had fought beasts before in the tunnels, but nothing that ever looked anything like these...things.

They raised their claws and hissed at him in response.

Without warning, they dashed forward at him, going for a strike. Optimus spun to the side and gave a warning slash. The creatures hissed again--that loud, awful hiss--and struck in retaliation. He winced when something sting his left leg, but he brushed it off and swung his axe against its head.

He found that the soft ground made it a little harder to keep his footing. There was little traction and he slipped several times as he swiped at the beasts with his axe. When Optimus whipped his helm around, he quickly realized he was surrounded by five of the creatures; their attacks had been to bait him for an ambush. They were bold and intelligent and worked as a pack. No creature back in the tunnels fought with such intelligence.

He didn't want them to follow if he tried to make a break back for the hole. He couldn't live with himself leading danger to his clan. He scanned over them all again and eyed the one with the large gash on its head, dripping blue fluids in between multiple eyes. Optimus nodded to himself, set on a plan, and took off in its direction. The others instantly dashed after him as he charged towards the weakest looking creature, axe ready.

He gave a harsh swing and the creature's head fell off in a messy cut. It rolled away into the dirt, forgotten as he turned to face the others still pursuing. One leaped at him. Optimus ducked and let its underside drag against the sharp end of his weapon. He slashed several legs off another that jumped at him as well.

"Alright," Optimus muttered, giving heavy intakes as he watched. "Not many left. I just need to keep focus," he stated between pants.

A flaring burn hit his leg, causing him to yelp and fall to his knees. It was an acidic feeling of pain; like a medic had used medicine to inflict pain. His hands grew weak and his axe slipped out of his grip. It hurt so much.

A whimper escaped Optimus' lips as he fumbled to reach for his axe. He was seeing bright flashes.

He heard the scurrying footsteps move closer and closer. Dread filled his spark as he struggled. He couldn't die here--he JUST arrived. How could he just die in such a beautiful land? He wanted to know more and learn about it.

When a painful screech came from the creatures, Optimus glanced up and saw...someone now standing before him, a large sword impaling the remaining two monsters. He sat up, swallowing nervously, and eyed the stranger. The strange mech was...large and looked powerful and strong. And he was staring directly at Optimus with two, fierce red optics.

He was saying something, Optimus realized. But in his ailing state it sounded like gibberish. He couldn't understand, but he weakly gestured to his leg where he had been bitten or stung. He couldn't remember.

The stranger pulled his sword clean from the beasts and approached. He was still talking with that strange voice. He kneeled down, still big enough to tower him.

Suddenly, a large sack was brought to Optimus' lips. The mysterious mech unlatched it and tilted it. " _Unerjin_."

"H-huh?" Optimus blinked weakly and gargled in surprise when a small stream of energon trickled into his mouth. "Ah...energon...Thank you..." His optics felt heavy and he was beginning to feel...tired.

Something slipped under Optimus' legs and he quickly found himself being lifted in the air.

"I need...to get back..." he moaned and pointed to the crevice he had crawled out from.

The stranger replied with more incoherent words.

There was a loud bang and a unpleasant churning filled Optimus' tanks. He cracked his optics and glanced around in confusion as gravity pulled against him. "Whoa! Whoa! No, hey what--Why?!" he stammered and pushed at the stranger's arms.

They were in the air, flying. He was in the air. High...in the air. Optimus continued pushing against the mech's arms, ignoring the mysterious words he was saying. The tone sounded like a scolding, but Optimus didn't care. He kicked his legs out and flailed. The earth below looked like tiny, brown specks on metal. Optimus was terrified. He didn't belong in the air. He needed to be back on stable ground. 

"Let me go!" he cried out.

And the next thing he knew, Optimus was falling. Down. Extremely fast. And he was screaming. His spark clenched in his chest, preparing for impact, as he plummeted.

The last thing he felt before the fear of falling overtaking him was a pair or sturdy hands clutching him and pulling his weak body back into an embrace.

 

* * *

 

Going on patrol alone, Megatron decided, seemed to be worth the effort after all. He expected to find a victim with the sand crawlers, but here he was, flying a living--if strange--mech back to his camp. He was strange in the fact that he did not or could not fly. No flier was afraid of the sky or of falling.

The stranger had been bitten by one of the sand crawlers, one of the deadliest creatures known to him and his clan. It was surprising though that he had managed to take three of them down before being affected by the venom. If anything, it showed he was not entirely helpless. Merely clueless.

Megatron zoomed across the desert, cradling the shorter mech close to his chest. He had so many questions for him. He looked so...different. Unlike Megatron and his clan of fliers, this mech was shorter and lacking in protective plating. His armor had more curves and circular pieces of....rubber? Rubber on the backs of his legs and shoulders.

"Where are his wings?" Megatron mused as he flew forward.

"Megatron!"

He sighed and adjusted his speed. He recognized that screeching, even from this distance. "Not now, Starscream! I'm preoccupied."

"What?!"

In an instant, a maroon and silver jet was scaling the skies, following directly behind him.

Megatron rolled his optics. His second-in-command was, no doubt, going to push their earlier discussion on him. But, he would have to catch Megatron first. With a smirk, he activated his thrusters as he breached the outer border of their territory. He finally paused, allowing Starscream to catch up to him and waited as the fast Seeker came to a halt at his side and transformed.

"Very mature, flying just fast enough to keep me away!" Starscream snapped. "Now! Can we PLEASE talk about--"

"Later," Megatron ordered. "Fetch Hook and bring him to my chambers. Tell him to bring treatment for a sand crawler bite."

Without waiting for a reply, Megatron took off again, clutching the mech in his arms tighter. Behind him, Starscream howled in fury at being interrupted, but Megatron ignored it. There were more important things to attend to.

He raced to his room, stationed in chambers in one of the tallest towers of their camp. Normally after returning, he would go to greet the others, but now he had to get his discovery to a berth; to rest. Questions would come later.

When Megatron arrived at his quarters, he landed on the spacious landing pad and entered his sleeping quarters. The mech in his arms moaned and shifted back forth in a delirious state; Megatron rushed him to his berth. It was covered in pelts made from many different types of cyberbeasts from around the deserts. Turbo-foxes and wolves and sand crawlers.

"I'm here!" Hook cried as he rushed into Megatron's quarters. "So swear to our Life Giver, I will punch you Megatron for making a skyling mistake of getting bit!"

Megatron smirked and glanced to the festering medic. "Hook, you can't talk to your clan leader that way," he replied in a good humor and grinned. "The patient is over there by the way," he explained, nodding to his berth.

"Believe me," Hook snapped as he stalked over to Megatron's berth. "If you weren't the clan leader, I'd not hold my tongue this much. Hmmm!" The green and purple medic's tone instantly dropped its grouchiness as he stepped closer and examined the mech. "This...Where are his wings?" he asked as he leaned forward and drew a vial of antidote.

"That is the interesting thing," Megatron replied and watched as Hook forced the white liquid down those blue lips. "He is not a flier. He was uncomfortable being in the air. Unlike a flier. He screamed quite a lot."

"Did he say where he was from then?" Hook asked as his wings perked up in interest. The medic poked and prodded the stranger's frame, specifically the curves on his chestplate and shoulders.

"No. He spoke in a strange tongue. He called energon 'Eenirgene'. It sounded so...strange. I couldn't understand him at all."

"Sounds like you could ask one person," Hook replied with a shrug. "That is, if Blitzwing hasn't driven her off yet with all the teasing."

Megatron nodded and strode forward to stand by his berth. "Right. Blackarachnia."

"Alright. I'm partially relieved it wasn't you who got bit, partially disappointed," Hook stated honestly as he stood up and gave one last look over the mech. "I wanted to lecture you about how stupid it is to go out in the desert. Alone. But, he'll be fine. I suppose. The antidote is meant for our kind...so we'll have to see."

"You won't get that chance. Yet," Megatron said with a casual chuckle. 

Hook sighed and walked to the doorway. "Fine. I'll come back in a couple megacycles to check on him."

"How generous of you to spare me the lecture," Megatron replied and nodded to Hook.

"That's because Starscream's waiting to give you a verbal lashing instead," Hook answered with a smirk and waved as he left.

Megatron sighed and turned his attention to his berth. He sank down and sat beside the mech, optics scrutinizing even detail of his face. Megatron reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against the strange finials on his helm. He then wiped the streaks of dirt away from his face and gazed down at the mech. He couldn't help himself as his fingers wandered down, innocently tracing down seam lines to explore the strange body.

"Is THIS what you've been avoiding me for?!" Starscream demanded as he barged in. "Lord Megatron, I've finally caught you. Now! You must do your duties and listen to me," he stated, wings flicking high on his back in irritation.

"Yes, Starscream. I know." Megatron merely sighed and pushed himself up. "The Elders have been persistent about the issue, haven't they?"

"Lord Megatron," Starscream began in a stern tone and walked forward, arms folded behind him. "You have to pick someone."

"Perhaps I can use my influence to bypass that silly custom."

"Please! The Council would have your head. Just...pick someone already! It doesn't look good that you haven't been mated yet!"

Megatron rolled his optics. "I still pride myself with my accomplishments rather than a lack of a partner."

"Megazarak had a mate picked by the time he was your age," Starscream snapped coolly.

"I will pick someone I enjoy flying with. And someone who I consider an equal in all aspects, Starscream," Megatron replied sharply. "So go tell that to the Elders and it will shut them up for a while."

"UGH," Starscream grumbled. However, the sour tone disappeared and a sickeningly sweet expression appeared instead. "Fine. You keep delaying and the Elders will have no choice but to pass leadership to me. Perfect!" He grabbed a bundled piece of fur and flung it at Megatron's helm before he stomped out. "Just. PICK. Someone." he ordered as he stormed off.

When he turned his attention back to the berth, he was surprised to a set of soft blue optics gazing up at him.

"Ahh. You're awake," Megatron murmured. "I don't suppose you understand me though, do you?"

" _E-enirgene_ ," the mech whispered, voice straining.

Megatron nodded and reached for his energon satchel. He minded the tip, it was quite large for his smaller mouth and pinched around the base. He brought it to the stranger's mouth as he took a few moderate sips and closed his optics again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an era where the war never happened, there are two distinct kinds of Cybertronians: Fliers who inhabit the skies and Grounders who live deep under Cybertron's surface. The only problem is that neither kind knows of the other's existence. Grounders have never explored above; while Fliers have never stepped foot underground.
> 
> That is...until a Flier and Grounder have a chance meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this on tumblr, it has been edited a bit and I added a little part in this!

"Surely you'd know him," Megatron pressed after he was given a loud hiss. He took a few steps inside the hollowed out cavern and glanced around. "My, you've certainly decorated."

He heard the hissing from overhead and stared blankly at the dark, eight-legged form clinging to the ceiling. Ah. She was definitely in a mood today, clicking her long legs impatiently. Five, bright red eyes glared at him. Mandibles flicked open and closed. "I'm looking to decorate it with the heads of foolish fliers who won't leave me alone."

"Hmm." Megatron merely smirked. "And yet you helped us create an antidote to the sand crawler. Seems very counter-productive."

"Tch. Don't be so quick to assume I know everything." That was a fair point, except--

"But you once told me you came from below the sands," Megatron reasoned. "He tried to point out a hole in the ground when I rescued him."

"And? Maybe he lost his mind in the desert. Why should I care?" she snapped and turned her back, still clinging to the wall.

"You won't speak with him?" Megatron asked with a frown. "Not even for the crystal treats you sneak here?" he added and pulled out a large handful of energon crystal, smirking as the large spider perked out and eyed the crystal. He waved his servo back in a tantalizing motion and smiled innocently as she crept forward and studied the offering.

Eventually, she made a loud huff and dropped down with a distinct thump against the ground. In an instant, her body twisted around as she rose standing. She stalked forward and held her arms out expectantly. "Let me see!" she cried as she snatched the purple crystalline treat.

At her regular height, Blackarachnia only came up to his waist, but she still made her presence known. Megatron watched as she wrapped her arms around the crystal larger than her head and examined it; turning it over several times and even going as far as to lick it. "Is it to your liking then?"

"You're asking me to be translator for every single word your little toy says. It'll take more than a snack to make me happy," Blackarachnia snapped and cradled the crystal against her chest.

"Yes, I'm aware," Megatron replied with a nod. "Blitzwing will stop coming to bother you as well. I'm familiar with his unauthorized late night visits to tease you. I know he doesn't truly mean it, but I will see to it that he stops."

"Pfft."

"Come now. When is my word no good? I always keep my promises," Megatron murmured. "And you certainly seem to enjoy lurking under our homes, despite how much you say that would indicate otherwise."

"Bah." Blackarachnia threw her arms up after tucking the crystal away in a crevice. "Fine! But it doesn't mean I'll actually talk to him. Maybe I'll just sit in the corner and glare. That might make things fun."

The clan leader simply chuckled and rolled his optics. "Yes, very well. Would you like a ride?" he questioned, offering his servo to her.

Blackarachnia glared. "I don't need wings to get around unlike you lazy fliers." She turned her chin away and crossed her arms.

"Alright then. He's resting in my berth," Megatron explained and turned to leave. He paused mid-step when Blackarachnia snorted harshly and cackled and glanced over his shoulder. "...That is remotely not what it sounds like."

"Suuuuuure it's not, Lord Megatron," she replied in a mockingly sweet voice. "Whatever you say," she added with a wave of her sharp, clawed hand.

Megatron scowled but knew better than to react. Blackarachnia loved drawing rises. It had taken a regrettably long time to learn how to deal with her--what to say and how to act to keep her from acting spiteful in return. He didn't voice it, but it was strange how bitter Blackarachnia seemed. Always angry and impatient, but he still had no clue as to why; even with the amount of time she had been staying. She certainly knew how to guard her secrets well. "Please join us when you can," he urged and turned away.

Megatron's chest heaved in a deep sigh when he did not get a response aside from a loud snort and he departed from the cavern by activating his thrusters. He dreaded the thought of someone like Blackarachnia in the same room as Starscream. Especially with Starscream in an anxious mood to see him mated off with someone; _anyon_ e at this point. The plotting those two could accomplish...

When he returned to his quarters, he was surprised to see his personal bodyguard, Lugnut, hulking in the doorway, bellowing out in praise of Megatron's name.

"Master!" Lugnut greeted in a loud voice and saluted.

"Lugnut, please. You don't have to be so formal."

"But, Lord Megatron! You deserve all the praise I can muster! The skies should be filled with your name!" His mono-optic flared brightly and he banged a thick arm against his chest.

Over his shoulder, Megatron could see his small visitor huddled in his berth, looking disturbed by Lugnut's attitude.

"That is quite alright, Lugnut," Megatron replied. "How has the guest been?"

"He refuses to acknowledge your greatness, Master! He will not respond to me!"

Megatron frowned and gently nudged his way through the door. "Lugnut, you ARE aware he cannot speak our language, correct?"

Lugnut did not reply initially as Megatron's words sank in. And then he instantly sank on his knees and groveled before him. "Forgive me, Lord Megatron! This information was not given to me! I failed you! I have dishonored your name by insulting your guest! Please, forgive me, Lord--"

"Enough, enough, Lugnut," Megatron ordered and placed a servo against the well-built flier's shoulder. "He hasn't tried leaving yet. So, I'm sure he's just confused; not insulted. That'll be all."

"Y-yes, Lord Megatron." Lugnut quickly scrambled up and bowed to Megatron again. "If I can be assistance in anyway, please allow me to make up for my impudence."

Megatron merely sighed and pinched the bridge between his optics. "...Very well. I believe your consort requested your presence."

Lugnut's optic zoomed in and out several times before he rushed out the door. "I am coming, Strika. The fury, righteous light in my spark! No other surpasses your beau--"

Megatron smiled and shook his helm as Lugnut's booming voice trailed off. However, he straightened up when he realized that those same blue optics had been glued on him the entire exchange. His optics darted back and forth in consideration. Eventually he took a step forward and smiled at the stranger still laying in his berth.

"Hello."

 

* * *

 

When Optimus awoke again, he was surprised to see a large, round optic towering over him. He spoke in the same tongue as the same mech who had saved him, but he was much different. Louder and taller. He instantly boomed when Optimus opened his mouth, but he didn't try to attack or injure him. He didn't seem...violent at least.

"A-am...I...a prisoner?" he had tried to ask, knowing it was probably a lost cause.

And he was instantly proved right when his guard--warden?--squawked an incoherent reply. He sighed and curled up on the berth, gazing at the pelts around him. There were such strange looking animals; he couldn't imagine what they looked like while alive.

Hours passed while Optimus sat bored, waiting for something to happen. But, not much happened beside the guard saying something occasionally. Not that he could really understand. The guard himself was so...strange looking. It seemed like all these fliers were so large and tall compared to him. Optimus watched the hulking guard, noting how armored and protected he look.

His clan underground could do with more armored fighters like him...

Eventually, the guard turned around and seemed to be speaking--shouting more like--to someone. Optimus frowned and drummed his fingers on the fur cloth covering him while fidgeting. He perked up and straightened up on the berth when a familiar voice greeted him and he watched as the same flier who rescued him stepped through the doorway.

Optimus smiled meekly at the large flier as he entered and gazed directly towards him.

He opened his mouth and murmured something to Optimus; a greeting perhaps? Optimus shrugged in return and smiled. After a short time of silently staring at each other, the strange flier gestured to the open flight deck right outside the room and nodded to him. Optimus blinked, but slowly followed after him. He still felt a bit weak and shaky at the legs, but he ignored the sensation. The last thing he wanted to do was look weak after the flier had seen him frightened of flying.

He walked behind the stranger and cautiously peeked through the doorway to the open deck.

It was...tall--understatement actually. The ground was hundreds of feet below. All the golden, soft ground. It was wider than any underground ravine he ever saw.

The stranger was patient as he waited for Optimus to join him. He lifted a thick arm up and pointed in the distance. There was a strange cloud on the horizon.

Optimus frowned again and glanced back to him. "What is it?"

Before the flier could reply, there was a loud gasp behind them. "It's you!"

He turned around, catching sight of the strangest looking Cybertronian. She was dark black and purple, with several protruding limbs on her backside. Four angry, red optics glowered at him. But...she spoke his language. "Optimus!" she hissed and stalked forward.

"Have we met?" he asked in a confused and concerned tone.

"Why am I not surprised it's you?!" It was strange--she didn't look a flier at all. But was very angry. Especially at him. "I should kill you right now!" she cried and charged forward.

Optimus flinched away and gasped, instinctively trying to reach for his missing axe only to realize it was still leaning against the berth. But before she could strike or he could move back, the flier said something and stepped forward, catching her arm and pulling her back.

She hissed and snapped at the flier in his tongue; screaming in loud shrieks.

"I don't know who you are!" he tried to reason and frowned. But this only drew an even angrier glare.

She even snarled, but when the flier--who still had a powerful grip on her arm--murmured something else, she inhaled in irritation. "UGH. He says that there's a dust storm coming, so he'll take you back to your little hole after it's finished." She pulled her arm free from the flier and sent another scowl. "But, please feel free to leave sooner and go die in the desert somewhere. It's the least you deserve, Optimus."

"How do you know my name?!" he demanded.

She 'hmph'd and quickly turned on her heel.

"Wait...Can you at least thank him for saving me?"

She paused and glanced over her shoulder as she considered his request. Her limbs twitched as a soft, bitter chuckle oozed out of her mouth and she answered with a curt, "No." Without another word, she stalked out of the room just as quickly as she arrived.

Optimus frowned and turned his attention to the mysterious flier who looked as just as confused as he did. "Um...Thank you. For saving me," he murmured quietly.

He was given an incoherent response, making Optimus want to slap his helm in frustration.

How was this going to work?

He slowly glanced back to open balcony, locking onto the large and nasty looking cloud. A dust storm...What was a dust storm, anyway? Was it that bad that they couldn't return him sooner and wanted to wait it out instead?

He fidgeted his fingers and chuckled nervously. "Looks like...nice weather," he said and nodded to the cloud.

He was given a confused smile as the flier walked over by his side. However, he didn't stand by him for long as he paced over to the opposite side of the room and retrieved something. Optimus watched as he returned with a weird looking glass oval, with energon inside. 

" _Unerjin_ ," he repeated just as before when he had saved Optimus and offered the glass.

"Ahh...Right! 'Unerjin'," he mimicked and accepted it with a small smile. "At least I know what that means, I think. Thank you again," he murmured, realizing he was prattling on to himself. "Yeah. For the...uh...unerjin?" he continued on and gestured to the glass and took a small sip.

The stranger simply gazed at him with, optic brows cocked in an intrigued manner, but he smiled in sympathy and nodded, while making a soft response in his foreign tongue.

If only they could understand each other. He had so many questions about the land and it would make communicating so much simpler.

At the very least, Optimus thought his voice sounded really nice and charming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an era where the war never happened, there are two distinct kinds of Cybertronians: Fliers who inhabit the skies and Grounders who live deep under Cybertron's surface. The only problem is that neither kind knows of the other's existence. Grounders have never explored above; while Fliers have never stepped foot underground.
> 
> That is...until a Flier and Grounder have a chance meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megatron confirmed as his parent's son. 8)

They spent the next few hours having several one-sided conversations to each other, but Megatron wasn't deterred just yet. He and the stranger stood against separate sides of his room, mumbling back and forth to one another; unsure what the other's response was though. Eventually, Megatron settled on referring to the mech as the 'desert warrior' for the time being. Blackarachnia was not interested in translating his real name, let alone even glancing at said mech at the moment.

Judging from his body language, the warrior was beginning to...relax. His shoulders lowered down and didn't look as stiff and tense. Megatron wanted to feel like he was trusted at the very least, but it was still too early to really understand how the stranger felt. Megatron couldn't know how it felt to be stranded in a foreign land whose inhabitants differed from himself greatly. He wondered what it would be like to wake up in a village full of ground dwellers just like the desert warrior.

But, when Megatron saw dust starting to kick up and fly through the sky in a fury, he quickly slammed the door to his open balcony. There was many hazards in the desert, like the weather or the wild animals, but his tribe prided on its freedom. He noticed that the warrior look frightened and was eyeing the door as it quivered under the wind's force. The stranger even pointed at it and whispered something, optics wide with worry.

"Are you nervous?" Megatron questioned, knowing he would not get a response he could understand. "I can understand that. The first time I sat through a dust storm alone, I was frightened and thought it would rip my entire shelter away," he murmured with a soft chuckle.

The desert warrior didn't move and simply frowned.

Megatron quickly changed his tactics and turned back to his berth. "Let's sit down," he explained while waving the warrior over with a curl of his fingers, "It won't due us any good if we pace around and wait for it to be over."

He was being watched with suspicion, but Megatron shrugged and patted the berth beside him. It didn't make much convincing after the wind gave a loud howl through the slits in his door and shook it violently. Before he knew it, a red and blue blur joined him in his berth and scrambled under the pelts. He didn't blame the mech for such a reaction either; it took years to get use to a dust storm. They were loud, unpredictable, and extremely dangerous.

While most storms were not lethal, the previous clan leader--Megazarak--had been killed in one. Megazarak was a wise and powerful leader, but even he wasn't immune to aging. He lived much longer than any past leader before him, but he took to the skies during a bad dust storm and had been found buried under a sand dune, with sand crawlers feasting on his body. The clan healers had decided that it was Megazarak's old age that was his undoing. He simply lacked the strength to escape the dune by the time the sand crawlers found him.

For the looks of it, this storm seemed intent to go on for days.

Megatron watched as two blue hands pulled a cyberwolf pelt closer and in an instant, the warrior was completely covered in a bundle. He tried to keep a respectable space, but the warrior insisted on scooting up beside him every time. He gazed down, intrigued, at the short glimpses of blue optics peeking out through cracks in the fabric and smiled in assurance.

He was amazed by how different the color in the desert warrior's optics looked. Fliers had optics that ranged from all sorts of red shades as a secondary line of defense. It helped them look more intimidating to other tribes and beasts in the desert.

It was silent, aside from the roaring winds of the storm, but they remained huddled together on the berth the entire time.

A distant, but distinct, knock on Megatron's door caught his attention. He sat up and glanced to the warrior once more. "I'll be right back, I promise," he explained, reaching down to gently pat what felt like a...shoulder? When the stranger took another peek between the pelts, Megatron smiled and waved before he stood up.

He seemed to understand the notion at least and didn't try to follow after Megatron, but the tribe leader felt his gaze watching him.

"Is that you, Lugnut?" Megatron questioned as he carefully clutched his door knob. He slowly pulled his door open and blinked several times at the visitor. "E-Elder Terminus! What brings you to my quarters?" he balked and gazed.

Elder Terminus was the mate of Megazarak. He and Megazarak were fair rulers and balanced one another out perfectly. Strangely though, Terminus was unable to fly--due to an a malformation in his frame and he never formed wings--and his problems extended to the unborn sparkling he and Megazark sparked together. Right before Megatron's creation, the pair had tried _once_ to have a sparkling, but it passed on before its tiny spark could separate from Terminus'.

It was common knowledge to the Tribe these days, as was what happened afterwards.

Megatron heard the tale time and time again from Terminus and Megazarak. Megazarak often took to the desert for answers during internal crisis and did just the same after the loss of their child. He found a demolished caravan passing through the desert and the sole survivor was a small and weak gray and red sparkling, hidden in broken pieces of metal and banner.

One he brought back to Terminus and named Megatron.

But, Megatron never felt like they only thought of him as a substitute for their lost child. The entire tribe never once held his beginnings over his head and welcomed him as the replacement for Megazarak's leadership.

He shifted his stance under Terminus' gentle, yet scrutinizing gaze. The Elder's armor was a dull silver with yellow and red accents running up his frame and very squared. In Megatron's opinion, he never looked like much of a flier, but perhaps time merely aged him.

"Hello, Megatron," he greeted, intertwining his fingers together. "Might I come in?"

Megatron glanced over his shoulder. "I...I have company, but it's not what you think."

Terminus merely grinned and waved a hand. "No, I understand. Word of the newcomer has traveled. I mainly came to tell you that all the Elders wish to speak with you in the conference room."

"During a dust storm?" Megatron replied, brows arching in surprise.

"Well, you do not need to fly to get down there, child," Terminus murmured. "The Elders decided it would not be a danger for you to come now."

Megatron's shoulders heaved in annoyance and he rolled his optics. "Very well. Come in," he said, standing aside to allow Terminus passage.

Terminus took a few steps and gazed around, arms folded against his back. "You were never one to decorate. Just like Megazarak," he spoke with a fond tone. When he spotted the bundle on Megatron's berth, he turned his attention directly on the desert warrior. "I hope you remembered your manners and gave your guest a polite welcome, Megatron."

"As best I could when your guest doesn't speak your language, Terminus." Megatron frowned. "I suppose I will have to get Lugnut to come watch him again. I wouldn't feel right leaving him alone during this storm. He's scared half to death."

"No," Terminus quickly turned back to him. "I am not allowed to attend this meeting because the Elders think I am too lenient with you. They suspect I'll be the same way as they try to pressure you into choosing a mate again."

"This again?" Megatron asked, pinching the bridge between his optics.

"Now go," Terminus urged. "I will stay here with your company."

"Are you sure?" Megatron questioned. "Your leg is still healing."

"I might have bad joints," Terminus snapped with a huff, "but our medics want me to move about, Megatron. Stop coddling and do your duties." Terminus voice softened after a moment. "Besides, I've been lonely."

Megatron sighed, still frowning, and slowly nodded. "Very well. Take care," he whispered and placed his servos on his caretaker's shoulders. He brought their foreheads together in an affectionate gesture before pulling away. "I'll be back soon."

The last sight he saw before departing his room was Terminus approaching his berth.

He knew that the desert warrior would be in capable hands.

...Even if he couldn't understand Terminus.

 

* * *

 

Optimus was certain he was going to die. The instant he saw earth fly, he know he was going to die. The dirt underground never just...FLEW like it was now. It wasn't natural and Optimus felt no shame in hiding under all the pelts on the tribemech's bed. Was the weather always like this mess up here? So...loud...and frightening?

The mech who had saved him was talking the entire time as Optimus hid for safety. That's what they taught underground; take shelter and huddle together. Numbers were safer. And there was a better chance of being saved if a larger group got buried under rubble, against a sole miner trapped. He would have to apologize later for mindlessly occupying his berth and clinging, but Optimus was honestly afraid for his life at the moment.

Eventually, he heard more muffled talking and for a moment, a hand pressed against Optimus's chestplate. Right above his spark.

He cautiously peered through the cloth and watched as the other mech slid off the berth and approached his door. He clamped his mouth shut and watched as the flier greeted the his visitor in a familiar fashion.

The wind roared again. Optimus gasped and covered his face again.

Silence passed on for several minutes until he heard someone cough softly, almost expectantly.

"Well? Are you going to hide under there forever?" the unfamiliar voice asked.

He froze and quickly lifted up his pile of pelts. The flier had left the room and now Optimus was alone with the new mech. He gaped and blinked several times. "I...I must be hearing things. It almost sounded like you spoke. And...I could understand you."

"That's because I did speak," the stranger replied with a reserved smile and took a seat at the corner of the berth. "And you heard me. Good, good." When he didn't get a reply, he simply chuckled and continued on. "You look confused. I can sympathize with you. My name is Terminus."

"But..." Optimus continued to frown and eyed Terminus. "I thought no one here could speak my language."

Terminus simply smiled again. "There are many things I've learned in my time. Through age, you'll discover things that hardly come as a surprise anymore."

"Ah." Optimus nodded in understanding and slowly sat up. "Sorry, where are my manners. My name is Optimus. Optimus Prime."

For a moment, the elder mech's optics brightened intensely. "Optimus...Prime?"

"Yes?"

Any shock disappeared from Terminus' expression and he smiled pleasantly once more. "Forgive me. It's a very nice name. You almost remind me of my brother, but he passed on many years ago."

Optimus bowed his helm respectfully. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. But it's comforting here."

Optimus leaned forward. "It's really amazing. I mean...all these fliers. The landscape. It's beautiful!" When he heard a chuckle, the miner coughed into a fist, expression turning a shade of bashfulness. "Sorry, this...erm. This might sound hard to believe, but I not from here. I have a tribe--a clan--and we live far underground."

Terminus rubbed his chin. "That would explain why you have no wings then. Tell me more of your clan."

"Well, we have a leader. The Magnus. Each clan has its own Magnus. And--"

"There is more than one of your groups? Underground?" Terminus asked, tilting his helm at an intrigued angle.

"Yes, but there can be miles and miles of tunnels between each clan. So each has its own Magnus. And everyone in a tribe can have different functions. The oldest make up a council that all meet with the Magnus to discuss problems and solutions," Optimus continued to explain and crossed his legs together. He lightly spun his servos around as he spoke and gestured eagerly. "And then we have miners. And the look outs and scavengers who guard the miners. And then there are the medics," he murmured with a shrug.

Terminus hummed in understanding. "Believe it or not, this sounds very similar to how this tribe functions. There is no Magnus here, but there is a leader."

Optimus watched as the elder mech cleared his throat and glanced to the still-shaking balcony door.

"Yes, my sparkmate, _Mejazeyrok_ , was the previous leader of our tribe."

" _Mayja...zeyrock?_ " Optimus mimicked, glossa curling uncomfortably as he attempted to pronounce the foreign sounding name.

Terminus glanced back and laughed. "Close. Good first attempt. Now our child leads the tribe, though he would be annoyed hearing me call him a child," he added with a soft laugh.

"Hm?" Optimus blinked and gazed at the older mech.

He watched as Terminus patted the berth. "This is his room."

Optimus froze as the realization loomed overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> Until next time!


End file.
